


The Wrong House

by completelyhopeless



Series: Persuaded Universe [4]
Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 16:52:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3454610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard joins his family in Barbara's home... and hates it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrong House

**Author's Note:**

> After I wrote the first piece from Dick's point of view, I had thoughts about how he'd react to living in Babs' house, and then I was looking at my list of prompts to update another series and saw this one:
> 
> [DCU, any Batfamily, no one ever leaves their home to go somewhere they detest](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/545099.html?thread=77290827#t77290827)
> 
> So I asked if it was okay to use it for this universe and after I finished my other update, I started on this.

* * *

Seeing the house actually physically _hurt._

Richard wasn't prepared for that. He had known as soon as he got Selina's letter—like Bruce would _ever_ write anyone—he was no correspondent and for all that he had been the one to raise Richard and the others after the circus collapsed, he seemed like he'd rather pretend he'd never met any of his wife's “siblings”—that it would be awkward joining them on land, but to have them rent _this_ house...

He knew it was in part his own fault.

He'd never told either of them what happened here, what had been—or almost been—between him and the middle daughter of this house. He had never admitted to the pain of Barbara accepting and then rejecting him. He didn't know if he was just too proud or if he was ashamed. He knew some of what Bruce might say if he heard about it, and Richard never, ever wanted to hear it.

So it was probably pride.

If not for his pride, he could have avoided this. Roy had moved on, no longer in the parish, so Richard would have no reason to be anywhere near her or anyone connected to her again. He could have lived the rest of his life without knowing anything of Barbara Gordon.

Only he'd be lying if he said he didn't still think about her, that he didn't want to know how she was, if she was happy and in good health. He leaned his head against the window, wishing for a way to make himself stop thinking about her.

Impossible, standing in her house, seeing and feeling her touch everywhere in this place. Elaine might have been the one to decorate it, but that did not mean that Richard didn't feel Barbara _everywhere_ in this place.

It hurt. He should never have come here. He hated this place. He hated it for all the memories, all the reminders, the things that were and the ones that would never be.

He should never have left his ship. He didn't care what the admiralty said. That was home. That was freedom and flight and the only solace he'd had in eight years.

This place was like a prison.

Beautiful, he supposed, but still a prison.

* * *

“What troubles you, kitten?” Selina asked, and Richard looked back at her, trying to find words. He did not have a good explanation for any of it, and he still did not want to speak of Barbara and all the disappointment that came with her.

“Dry land,” Richard finally said, and she nodded sagely, moving toward him with fluid grace. He often thought that she was prettier than Empress Josephine—and she was more fortunate, too, having escaped the reign of terror with her head still on her shoulders.

“Bruce is the same way. He won't stop grumbling.”

Richard almost smiled. “You're the one who married him.”

“Yes, well, he was rather dashing at the time,” she said, her lips curving into a smile at the memory. “Rescuing me from the guillotine, sweeping me off to sea...”

“That story becomes more ridiculous with each telling.”

She laughed. “Of course it does, darling. It annoys Bruce that way.”

Richard shook his head at the two of them. He had never fully understood their relationship, and he admittedly did not want to. Their intimacy was their own, and he had already seen too much of it when they forgot propriety. He did not want to repeat that now.

She slipped her arm around his and leaned against him. “I would steal Josephine's crown to see you smile again, _petit.”_

“You'd steal that for yourself,” he said, and she grinned at him. “You like all this, don't you? This house, the finery, the... money?”

“I will admit I have some fondness for luxury,” Selina said, considering her words. “However, if that were my only motivation, I would have gone a much different path. And I would not know any of my dearest kittens.”

“Stop that,” he said when she pinched his cheek. She laughed again, and he gave her a smile, wishing he could make himself as happy here as she was. She was adaptable, taking to the sea better than he would have thought when he was younger, and she always said that as long as she had Bruce she could be happy, but he didn't think it was that simple or she was that delusional. Bruce could be impossible and he was lucky his men hadn't mutinied.

“She's not going to quit until you tell her why you're so miserable here,” Bruce said, and Richard tried to determine when he'd entered the room. He was quieter than an admiral should be. “I thought you'd like it. You seemed to enjoy it when you stayed with Roy.”

“Roy isn't here,” Richard reminded him.

Bruce grunted. He knew that wasn't the only reason Richard hated this place, but the last thing Richard wanted to do was admit to his stupidity and wounded pride. Bruce would figure it out, he always did—Richard knew if he saw Barbara again it would be all too obvious what had happened—but he would not speak of it.

“Leave him alone. You always pester him too much and it is a wonder you speak at all the way you two can fight,” Selina said. “I do not want to start down that path again. I like having both of my boys with me.”

“We're not boys,” Bruce said with a growl, and and Richard chose that time to leave the room. He didn't need to see Bruce _prove_ that.

* * *

“Your tea, sir.”

Richard didn't bother moving from the window. The rain was coming down again, each drop against the pane pounding out a symphony to go with his misery. He remembered running in that garden, soaked to the skin and failing to care—Barbara's voice chiding him about catching cold and his own teasing laughter when he suggested she could nurse him if he was even the slightest bit unwell. Her dress had clung to her in the best of ways and he'd been unable to think of rain at all.

Now it was everywhere and it was almost as painful as the damned house.

He heard a shuffle behind him. “You don't need to wait on me. I never did get in the habit of taking afternoon tea. Too uncivilized for that, I suppose.”

“I do not think it a case of civility, though perhaps this might improve your spirits. I know you were fond of Cook's biscuits and even had acquired some taste for tea in the past.”

Richard lifted his head, frowning. “Alfred?”

The butler nodded. “It has been some time, and I admit I did not recognize you at first, but I do remember your visits to this house. These are the biscuits you called your favorite as well as the blend of tea you preferred.”

“I... I don't understand.”

That made the older man frown. “What is to understand?”

Richard snorted. “Oh, please. Everyone in this house treated me as something to scrape off the bottom of their boot when I was here. Why would you have noticed my favorite biscuit or flavor of tea? And why bother treating me as though my rank in the navy or my money has somehow changed who I am? I'm not a nobleman, and I never will be.”

“You exaggerate the facts,” Alfred said stiffly. “Not all in this house treated you as unfit, nor has that changed.”

Richard lowered his head. He let out a breath. “I... I'm sorry. I never would have survived that first dinner if not for your advice.”

“And we simply could not have that,” Alfred said with what seemed like a smile.

“You are a rare man,” Richard said, shaking his head. He didn't know why Alfred liked him, but his presence here might make it possible to get through the next few months until he knew what he'd do with himself. He missed the sea, and he didn't know how he could stay here. “I don't understand why they didn't take you with them to Bath, though... I always thought he was a fool who didn't appreciate what he had. The way he treated her...”

Alfred held out the tea cup to him. “And you wonder why I remain here?”

Richard found himself smiling. “No, I suppose I don't at that. It must be a relief to you, having him gone. For me, though, being here again... I should never have agreed to come. What kind of idiot goes back to a place he hates?”

“One, I think, who still hopes.”

“You're wrong, Alfred. I never want to see her again.”


End file.
